


People Come Before Science

by cuddlemecrowley



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cooking, Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 18:19:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlemecrowley/pseuds/cuddlemecrowley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil reminds Carlos that he made an agreement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	People Come Before Science

It was almost five o’clock when Cecil called him, just as he’d gotten into his computer program to fill in his data. “Hey!”

"Hey, Cecil. I’m sorry, but I’ve got a lot of numbers to put down, can I call you back in an hour or so?"

"No, you may not, Carlos! This was your night to cook! That way when I get home from work I don’t have to! Remember?" 

Shit. He did forget. Oh no. “Yes, yes, I remember Cecil, but I have a lot of science left to do, I’ve got to fill in the numbers and process it and form a hypothesis about what it all means, and I have a lot left-“

"Carlos!!! You promised! Remember? I cook for you every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday, you cook for me every Wednesday, Friday, Saturday! That was the deal! As much as it pains me to say this, science can wait!”

He looked around and sighed, deeply regretting that he’d already started. “Fine, fine, I’ll go home and cook. Stirfry sound good to you?”

"Sounds perfect, Carlos, thank you.” 

Carlos bit back a reply that he’d regret, was totally unfair and uncalled for, and instead told Cecil he loved him, and hung up. It was becoming a lot easier to say it now, and say it often. It was a little alarming at the ease it rolled off of his tongue, but the person echoing the affirmation of affection made it all worth it. 

Carlos drove home. Well, what used to be just Cecil’s apartment, and was now Cecil and Carlos’ apartment, since Carlos’ had was now dominated by cockroaches who spoke fluent Italian, and since neither of them could speak the language, and didn’t know how Google Translate would hold up to “get out of my apartment or I’ll send a nuclear bomb on your asses,” they decided to move in together. It wasn’t that hard, honestly, and even though they hadn’t technically done anything yet, it felt unusually… good to have someone to rearrange his life around. Cecil’s home was now his home. Or it was becoming his home. 

Carlos chewed on the inside of his lip while he set up the kitchen the way he liked it. He needed his iPod, on the speakers, and once the dishes were put away, he started cooking, getting lost in the acts of cutting up the vegetables (Cecil hated carrots until they were cut in cubes) and cooking the chicken (pre-thawed out; Carlos liked to be as cheap as possible). 

When Cecil came in, all rattly keys and long limbs, Carlos was just putting on the final touches of the meal. “Hm, smells delicious,” he said as he buried his face in Carlos’ neck and his hands on his neck. 

Carlos chuckled, but shrugged him off. “Too hot, Cecil. Go get a few plates, I’ll be done in a few minutes.” 

They ate, talked about their days, the mirages- “Yes, Cecil, it’s nothing to worry about, we noticed it this morning, and it’s all okay, I promise you”- and what they wanted to watch tonight. As Cecil propped up his long legs on the coffee table, his socks crossed at the ankle, Carlos curled into the fishbone lightness of his ribs, and listened to the way Cecil breathed, in-in-out-in-in-out. This had become their new normal, and all was good.


End file.
